Into the heroisms of
Bright tenements
I find myself dying,
Scarred and
Effaced again,
While I see you in
The effigy of his
Mexican relationship
Who from your
Tawny kiln
Has produced both of
Your children,
Who come out to suckle off your
Muddy banks,
The way fireworks gurgle
In brown sin
And chocolate milk;
Until like mud pies left on the sill
To feed make dos
You leave his continent.
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